


Just Trust

by zeldadestry



Category: The OC
Genre: Community: 100_women, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-14
Updated: 2007-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:24:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bad things happen when we don't trust each other. Just - trust me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Trust

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 60, 'evening', for 100_women fanfic challenge

Ryan stands at the edge of the bed, apart from her. She wants him to lie down. She doesn't like this feeling of him being above her. She wants him beside her. "Ryan," she pulls at the front of his shirt, draws him down closer. "Take off your clothes. Get in bed."

There's not much light, but she can still see the outline of his body, and she watches, lets herself stare in a way she wouldn't in the full light of day. She quickly takes off her bra, her nipples hard, slips off her thong, the front of it already damp. He slips under the covers beside her, kisses her and she kisses back, just as wet and fierce. His cock is brushing against her thigh, but when she reaches a hand towards him, he grabs her wrist. "Wait?" he asks. "Let me taste you. I want to taste you." She loves that he tells her, he always makes her feel like it's something he's aching to do.

She has one hand at her nipple, squeezing it between her thumb and finger, hard, like Luke did because he didn't know how to be gentle, like Alex did because she understood that Marissa likes a little bit of pain. Her other hand is at the back of Ryan's head, and she wouldn't mind being blind, not if Ryan was always with her, if she could always have him within reach.

When he turns on the light to find the condoms she closes her eyes, covers them with her hand, so she can stay in darkness. She likes it like this, like there's no past, no future, just the two of them in this bed. It's been too long since they've been together and she wonders why they put it off, why they let all those other things that aren't important come between them. It seems like she never realizes what he means to her until she's just about to lose him, is losing him.

"Ryan," she whispers, as he turns back towards her, makes his way to the bed. "I love you."

He's standing above her again, looking down. "Listen, about Johnny-"

"What about him? Bad things happen when we don't trust each other. Just - trust me," she orders, moves both his hands to the back of her head, bends to her knees at the side of the bed so that his cock is in her face, lets him fuck her mouth. It's a little scary letting him control how deep he thrusts, but he never gives her more than she can take. When he comes, she swallows. If a guy expected it, she wouldn't. But Ryan always says things like "Are you sure?" or "You don't have to," and that makes her want it. And she likes tasting him, feeling how hot his come is. She thinks Ryan could get her to do anything, just by telling her no, don't.

She loves it when he lies behind her, she lifts her top leg and drapes it over his. His mouth is at her neck, his fingers at her clit. Rhythm so good, so slow, she almost loses patience, almost tells him, hurry, hurry, finish it, but she lets him do what he wants, waits for it, waits for it, and it's so intense when she finally comes, so so so worth the tease, heart thundering, every nerve tingling.

"Good?" he murmurs, a little bit smug, she can hear it in his voice, looks over her shoulder to catch his smirk.

"It's always good," she says. And he's so relaxed beside her, now, all the tension gone, he's just slumped and still, and heavy and good, and she wants to leave it alone, but she can't help feeling, if he won't talk, if she won't, then who are they to each other? Does he want to know her? She wants to know him, but he keeps himself locked away.

She has him now, his head resting against her belly. One of her hands is clutched in his own, her other hand strokes his shoulder in the same lazy back and forth as his lips nuzzling at her fingertips. She has him close to her, but how many people have been close to him like this? How many times did Theresa lie, just like this, beneath him, in love with him but feeling completely apart from him? Because Marissa does love him, and it's frightening to love him.

She sometimes remembers sitting with Theresa at the motel, on that bed. Ryan and Theresa had sex in that bed. And Theresa had talked about love, and saints, and the stained glass windows in church. Theresa talked about love piercing, like an arrow.

Even when Ryan left the first time, even when she saw him with Lindsey, even, god, even when she had to hide what Trey had tried to do from him, nothing was ever as bad as this.

What is it, what is it that hurts so much? This. To be apart from him, to worry that she's losing him, and then to be with him again and still feel the same distance. This is what hurts the most.

They lie side by side as the last rays of the sun fade outside, as dusk slips into night.


End file.
